


Colorless Green Ideas Sleep Furiously

by indistinct_echo



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Getting Together, M/M, Oct 19 2009, Vampires, idiots to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-18 02:01:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28984566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indistinct_echo/pseuds/indistinct_echo
Summary: When Dan and Phil are thrown together by circumstance and a shared undead fate, they decide to properly send off their humanity by having the greatest night ever. Nothing is off limits... until the sun rises.
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Comments: 135
Kudos: 59
Collections: Phandomreversebang face the music





	1. Chapter 1 — Dan

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the PhandomReverseBang :) Thank you to Cazzy for the art and for the prompt of [Scrawny](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zp-N54z0Pdg&list=PLGzE0pzLNNxyt_b0vD_ztIDL6pIEly-Uk&index=3396) by Wallows and to Jude and Louise for the incredible betaing.

Something’s off. No, _everything_ ’s off.

_How did he get here? Had he really fallen asleep in a random alleyway?_

Dan blinks, hoping the world will go back to normal by the time he re-opens his eyes. It doesn’t.

With a groan, he pushes himself off the ground into a sitting position and looks around. He’d have thought the myth about carrots was just that, but his current night vision is surprisingly strong.

Even so, it still takes him nearly a minute to notice that he’s not alone. There’s someone else here, a guy about his age. He’s pretty, in a Hot Topic mannequin sort of way, but maybe that’s just because he’s asleep.

Dan wonders if he should leave before the pretty guy wakes up; dark alleys aren’t exactly a place where he feels most comfortable. At least there are no trees here. He fucking hates trees.

And, if he stays here, he won’t have to worry about the fact that by the time he gets home he’ll have missed curfew. He doesn’t even have an explanation for his tardiness other than having possibly been drugged, kidnapped, and dumped in an alley. That definitely won’t loosen the child-sized collar of protectiveness his parents use to keep him a tight leash.

While constructing his mental pros and cons list, the pretty guy wakes up and startles when he notices him. Dan’s kind of glad that he’s not the only one feeling disoriented.

It’s probably best to appear as non-threatening as possible to this alley-dweller, so he gives the guy a halfhearted two-fingered salute.

_But maybe that wasn’t friendly enough. He should say something. Shit, his brain isn’t working right now. What are things people say? Oh!_

“Hi.” It’s admittedly not his best work, which isn’t ideal given that he’s got to convince the guy he’s not a serial-killing, kidnapping pedophile or whatever. He should introduce himself.

“So… my name is Dan.” He emphasizes his name with a bracket-like gesture he immediately regrets.

_Oh, wow, Dan, great idea. You should definitely give out personal information to total strangers in dark alleys post-probable-kidnapping._

“Hi, I’m Phil,” the other man says brightly, though he still looks out of sorts. “You wouldn’t happen to know what’s going on, would you?”

Dan is too distracted by the sounds of the words coming out of Phil’s mouth to process much of their content.

“You have an accent,” he says almost breathlessly. And, _fuck,_ drooling over this guy’s voice is not the first impression he wanted to make.

“No,” Phil says with a frown that creates a funny little shadow in the dark, “ _you_ have the accent. I sound like a proper northerner, and we’re in the north. You sound like the bastard child of the Queen and Winnie-the-Pooh.”

“I’m not the bastard child of anyone.” A pause. “Probably.”

Phil raises a brow.

“Anyways,” Dan continues with a shake of his head, “we’re not in the north, we’re in London. I was on my way to Sainsbury's and then I woke up here.”

“Well, look around, buckarino. You’re not in London anymore.” Phil points to a tall building in the distance. “That’s the thingy.”

“Wow, the thingy. Very specific, very northern.” It’s probably alright to tease him. Phil doesn’t really seem like much of a threat to Dan’s carrot-enhanced eyes.

“You know.”

“I don’t.”

“It’s Beetham Tower.”

“Oh, Beetham Tower, of course. How could I forget?” Dan doesn’t say that he’s never heard of this random-ass bee building before. It probably won’t come back to bite him.

“You taking the piss?”

Dan smiles widely. “Always, mate. Keep up.”

“Well, you were the one who thought we were in London.”

Dan thinks it well within his rights to choose to ignore that fact, so he does. “Yeah, well apparently our kidnapper — we have been kidnapped, right? — decided to lug my body all the way up to fucking Manchester of all places.”

“Language.”

Dan rolls his eyes but doesn’t argue.

“You think we’re being kidnapped?” Phil asks. “Kind of a lazy kidnapping to just dump our bodies — perfectly intact, mind — in a random alleyway somewhere in Manchester. We can just grab busses back home… although, maybe we should get some food first?”

“Sure, I’d be down for that,” Dan responds, as if he isn’t ecstatic about not having to deal with getting back to London right now.

“Pancakes?” Phil offers.

Dan moans. “Fuck, yes.”

Phil side-eyes him; Dan isn’t sure if it’s because of the language or the moan.

“What? I always want pancakes,” he says with a shrug.

“Is it a bad idea to go back to my house and make some?” Phil asks. “You’re a stranger.”

“Yeah, so are you. To me, not to you, obviously. That was stupid, sorry.”

Phil shakes his head. “Not allowed.”

“What, saying sorry?”

“Something like that.”

“Ok, cryptic weirdo.”

“Says you.”

Dan refuses to take the bait. “Says me. Anyways, like I was trying to say” — he gives Phil his pointiest look — “even if we are strangers, we’ve both already been kidnapped tonight. What are the chances of one of us _also_ being a kidnapper and kidnapping the other person?”

Phil squints at him. “That sounds like something a kidnapper would say.”

Dan tries unsuccessfully to hide his smile. “Are you accusing me of being your current kidnapper or a potential future one?”

“Oooh, I hadn’t thought of that,” Phil says. Dan snorts; figures. “You could be the person who kidnapped me in the first place and now are pretending to be another victim to win me over.”

Dan bats his eyelashes. “Is it working?”

Each of Phil’s facial features looks like it decides to react without coordinating with any of the others, making him simultaneously appear both skeptical and convinced. Like he’s about to bolt but also wants to ask Dan how he pulled the kidnapping off.

He doesn’t think Phil can _actually_ be so easily fooled, but he decides not to leave that to chance when chance left him in a fucking alleyway in Manchester. Although, chance also seems to have left him with Phil, so maybe his opinions on chance as a concept are fifty-fifty. That feels fitting.

“I’m kidding, mate. You should have seen your face.” And, just to be extra safe — he really doesn’t want this pretty guy named Phil to run off — “I didn’t and don’t plan to kidnap you, if you were actually nervous about it. I don’t think I could, even if I tried. I’m a scrawny motherfucker.”

Phil pauses for a moment, and Dan wonders if he’s going to tell him off for swearing again. But then he says. “Yeah, but you got cool hair.”

Dan’s confusion over the thought process train suppresses his instinct to brush off the compliment. “So?”

“Soooo,” Phil says, drawing out the word. Dan thinks his former drama teacher would be impressed with Phil’s ability to create suspense. “You wouldn’t need much brute strength to kidnap me. I’d probably, uh, follow you anywhere if you asked.”

_OH. So that’s how this is going to be. Tonight just got a lot more interesting. Scratch that. It was already interesting, given the kidnapping and all. But maybe now it’s actually going to get fun._

Dan hopes Phil can’t see how flustered he looks. Or how charmed. Phil is holding his glasses in one fist, so presumably he can’t see much at the moment.

Recognizing he’s probably supposed to respond, Dan tries to mirror Phil’s charm. “Good to know,” he says with a smirk.

Then there’s a lull in the conversation. It’s nice, quiet. Dan looks at Phil, and Phil looks back at Dan. It’s like looking into mirrors facing mirrors facing mirrors when he goes to the barber. It’s endless.

But the silence isn’t; Phil breaks it smoothly.

“So, pancakes?”

“Yes, please!” Dan says, probably too enthusiastically, but Phil beams. Dan notices that he has nice teeth, very straight and white and sharp, and he can’t help but smile back.

“Dimples?!?!!?” Phil exclaims. If he were a cartoon, his eyes would turn into exclamation points. Or maybe hearts, but Dan doesn’t want to think about that right now. “Oh my gosh, you just became like a zillion times cuter than you already were.”

And suddenly, Phil is standing right in front of him, reaching out to poke his dimple.

Dan quickly grabs his wrist. “No face-poking without permission.”

_Oh shit, he’s touching Phil. He’s nearly holding his hand! Fuck, why is he always so awkward?_

He lets go of Phil’s hand and tries not to be weird about it. Does Phil notice him being weird about it? He really doesn’t want Phil to notice him being weird about it. But the more he stresses about how weird he’s being, the more obvious his weirdness probably is. Weird.

Phil freezes but then quickly assumes a sweet sort of smile and an overly innocent voice. “Can I have permission to poke your dimple, please?”

Dan pretends to consider it for a moment, but then smiles evilly. “Nope.”

“Hey!”

“I never said I would give you permission, I just said you definitely don’t get to touch my face without it. It’s simple logic.”

Phil pouts. Dan rolls his eyes.

“How’d you see my dimple from all the way over there without your glasses, anyway?”

“Without my glasses?” Phil reaches up to touch his face, nearly whacking himself in the eye in the process, before noticing the frames are in his other hand. “Oh, that’s strange.” He looks back up at Dan. “Think our kidnapper is an optician?”

“Yes, Phil. He kidnaps young men in order to fix their eyesight. Very noble of him.”

Dan doesn’t say that Phil’s theory would explain why his own night vision seems so much stronger than usual. Crazy doesn’t need much fuel before it becomes plausible.

“Hmmm, that’s probably too many people,” Phil says. He looks between Dan and himself. “Maybe he just does it for the gay ones.”

Dan has a reaction. Not quite like he’s deathly allergic. But maybe mildly allergic. Or perhaps a bit more than that.

“I’m not gay,” he says.

Phil tilts his head. “You sure about that?” It’s not said mockingly or with the usual condescension. He just sounds curious.

The lack of judgement in Phil’s tone and the subtle confirmation of _his_ sexuality make Dan reconsider giving the deflective answer he always keeps on the tip of his tongue.

So he shrugs. “Nah, but I’m not too sure about anything right now. Why stress trying to figure it out by force when it’ll probably just resolve itself at some point?”

“Fair enough,” Phil says with a nod. “I can respect the path of least resistance. Do you think you might be even, like, a little gay? Or are you just ignoring it entirely?”

“Trying to see if there’s any chance you could get with me?” The teasing tone is back. Dan hopes Phil doesn’t mind. He recognizes he’s being kind of confusing, but that’s about as much of his truth as he is currently able to decipher; he’s a confusing and confused fucker who thinks this Phil guy is kind of cute. He doesn’t really know what it all means beyond that.

Phil is not abashed. “Yeah, is it working?”

Dan laughs — Phil is almost like a puppy with his boundless energy and confidence.

“How about I tell you when I’ve figured out if I’m more than three percent gay?”

“Yeah, okay, cool. And I can work with three percent, by the way.”

Dan looks him up and down. And maybe he is flirting a little bit, but that’s probably alright. “I’m sure you can.”

Phil’s lip twitches. “Noted.” He sounds both cheeky and self-assured.

If Dan were to let himself think about it, he knows that kind of confidence is exactly his type. And that’s not even including the _everything_ about the way that Phil looks that makes Dan’s insides go buzzy. He can tell they’re strapping in for a long night. He’s actually kind of excited about that.

“Might help to take me out for pancakes first,” Dan quips, not wanting to drop the ball.

But Phil doesn’t seem to be playing any games. He’s just so _open_ about who he is, what he wants, and how he feels. More than anything else that might be lurking under the surface, Dan just wants to spend time with this guy that ultimately seems like all that Dan wishes he could be. Maybe, by being around him, he’ll be able to absorb some of Phil’s coolness through osmosis.

But there will be time for that later, Dan thinks as he looks at Phil’s face all lit up with excitement. There are more important things to take care of first.

“Well then, what are we standing around for? Delia Smith awaits!”


	2. Chapter 2 — Phil

Phil guides Dan through the Manchester streets. Sort of.

He doesn’t actually have a specific destination in mind, other than it ideally being the nearest bus stop with a route number he recognizes. But he supposes that isn’t entirely his own fault; he’s never been dumped unconscious in a random alleyway before. Had he known this was coming, he would’ve used MapQuest this morning and tucked the printed directions into his pocket for later. Although, had he been forewarned, he wouldn’t be in this post-kidnapping predicament in the first place.

That’s probably false. He’d definitely still have gotten kidnapped. Hell, he probably would have gone willingly if he knew it meant he could hang out with a cute emo boy tonight. He even gets to make him pancakes!

Phil wonders if he should’ve told Dan that they aren’t merely popping into a flat in the city, that he actually still lives with his parents. He didn’t mention it because it sounds lame, and he doesn’t want to seem lame to someone like _Dan._ Anyways, his parents aren’t home, so at least he won’t have to make any awkward introductions tonight.

They zip from street to street. Phil hopes he’s going in the right direction and not dragging Dan halfway across the city for nothing. That probably would not make a good impression. He wouldn’t be able to explain it if asked, but he somehow just _feels_ like he’s going the right way, the same way he feels like Dan is someone he was always supposed to meet.

Instinct. Phil’s never had much of it, but there’s no time like the present to suddenly get basic directional skills.

Conversation with Dan flows like super melty cheese — no, like high quality chocolate, definitely not like cheese — and Phil wonders if exercise is always supposed to be this easy. He’s been on the treadmill in Dad’s office before, but he definitely didn’t feel as lightweight and limber as he does now.

He hopes Dan will hold his hand again. Not that he was really holding it the first time when he stopped Phil from touching his face — _he almost touched Dan’s face!_ — but still. Physical contact. It counts.

Phil’s surprised his heart didn’t fully beat out of his chest. He actually doesn’t feel his heart doing too much of anything at the moment, but he refuses to dwell on that. It’s the absolute worst when he becomes aware of his own bodily functions; it takes ages for him to get the rhythm of his heartbeat out of his ears whenever he occasions to catch a few sonic beats. Sonic as in sound, not the game. That’d be cool though.

Regardless, he’s impressed with his stamina — he’d have thought his heart would need to work overtime now, given his typical inactive activities. Can it be called an activity if it’s inactive? Sounds like an oxymoron.

They settle under a streetlamp at a bus stop. Phil knows it probably won’t be a direct bus, as there are likely very few people heading out to Rossendale this late, and so he does some preemptive route calculations in his head. He hadn’t realized he knew _anything_ about Manchester's public transportation system, let alone enough to plan for multiple possible transfers. He always writes these things down, although maybe that’s more in an effort to quell his travel anxiety than anything else. But he doesn’t feel anxious now, and his recall seems, thankfully, kind of perfect.

He can hear a bus coming even though he can’t see it yet. Both his and Dan’s heads turn towards the sound, and they watch the bus roll up to them. The route indicator is glitchy beyond comprehension, and, while Phil sincerely hopes this is the right bus — it’s already been a crazy night — he doesn’t fully trust his apparently newfound instincts.

The doors fold open, and Phil steps onto the first step of the bus. Huh, _steps_ onto a _step._ Does that work with everything? Walks onto a walk, jogs onto a jog? Guess not.

“Does this bus go to Rawtenstall?” he asks the red-headed driver. The valley’s a big place, and he might as well see how close to his hometown this route will take him, if the bus is going in that direction at all.

“Sure, kid,” she says.

_A direct line! That’s even better than he’d hoped for. He — they — will be home within an hour!_

Phil bounces on his toes and glances at the bus’s passengers, nearly all of whom appear to be asleep, as he fumbles for his wallet. He’s lucky he still has it, given the kidnapping and all. Hopefully nothing of Dan’s was taken either, but Phil wants to pay for his ticket, regardless; at least if Dan’s wallet is MIA, Phil thinks to himself wryly, there won’t be any basis for objection.

Phil’s about to step further into the bus when Dan says his name.

It doesn’t sound like how Dan’s said his name before. Except for the fact that Dan has never said Phil’s name, so it’s necessarily not like how he’s said it before. The last ‘before’ would have been even prior to their meeting which means it must have been another Phil, if Dan’s ever met another. He must have. Phil’s met other Dans. Probably. He can’t really think of anybody other than the really cute one standing beside him right now. But still, there’s a desperate and frightened note in current-Dan’s voice that immediately stops current-Phil in his tracks.

The driver clears her throat, and, with the noise, steals back Phil’s focus. He feels a pull towards the back of the bus that he can’t ever remember experiencing — who the hell enjoys public transportation? But, no matter how inexplicable, he can’t deny that he _wants_ to get closer to those people on board.

Dan grabs onto Phil’s hand, finally securing his attention; nothing is more alluring than Dan.

“Thanks,” Dan says to the driver, “but we’re going to pass.”

She scoffs, and Phil sees her roll her eyes out of his peripheral vision. He can’t bring himself to care, even if yesterday that kind of reaction would have sent prickles of anxiety up his spine. All he can think about right now is Dan.

Once the bus pulls away — the big rolling hunk of metal had felt like an intrusion on the moment — he asks, “Is everything okay? We don’t need to go to my house if you don’t want to.”

Dan shakes his head. “It’s not that.” He sighs. “I wish it were that. But I think the situation is a lot more complicated.”

Phil doesn’t have to try to contort his face into a questioning expression, it just does so. It’s quite convenient.

Dan twists his hand out of Phil’s, the loss of which is painful and acute, but he doesn’t go far, instead pressing two fingers against Phil’s wrist.

_Oh, he’s checking his pulse. Maybe Dan’s a doctor and knows something about how one’s pulse means he shouldn’t get onto busses._

“Phil,” he croaks after a minute.

Phil looks at him with a look. He hopes it’s a cute look; he can’t look at himself to look if his look is a good-looking look.

“You don’t have a pulse,” Dan whispers.

 _Ok,_ Phil revises in his head, _not a doctor._

“Of course I have a pulse,” he says. “Maybe you aren’t looking in the right place. Try my neck.”

“Your neck?” Dan sounds scandalized.

“Yeah, _I_ don’t have some weird aversion to you touching my face.” This isn’t really what Phil thought Dan touching his face would look like, but he’s not complaining.

“Your neck isn’t part of your face, you idiot.”

“Well, your chin skin connects to your neck skin, so who are you to say where the face ends?” _Especially since you’re clearly not a doctor,_ Phil refrains from adding.

Dan rolls his eyes. “And that’s all connected to your dick skin, but you don’t see anyone mistaking that for your face.”

“You wanna fight?” Phil blurts. He’s teasing, but he’s also not. He thinks Dan picks up on the right balance of vibes, but he sends a healthy vibe smoothie through the air to him just in case.

Dan shakes his head. “I want to check your pulse,” he says evenly.

So, with a flourish, Phil brandishes his neck for Dan’s perusal. Dan takes a timid step forward and reaches a hand towards Phil’s exposed skin but then stops.

“I—I _can’t_ touch your neck! It’s too intimate!”

Phil makes his best attempt at a wink. “Intimacy’s my middle name.”

“Good thing your parents at least had some sense when picking your first one.”

“Oi, leave my parents out of this.”

And, because the conversation is clearly going nowhere and Dan is still stalling, Phil grabs Dan’s hand and brings it up against his neck. He simultaneously tries to count his own pulse, just to prove Dan wrong, but he also doesn’t feel anything. It’s probably because Dan’s hand is blocking.

Dan presses his other hand to his own neck. Phil waits not so patiently as he watches Dan’s face go from curious to concerned.

“Phil,” he says solemnly, “neither one of us has a pulse.”

Phil isn’t entirely sure he believes him, but the fact that his heart didn’t speed up when a cute boy said his name is at least a pretty strong indicator that _something_ about his circulatory system is malfunctioning.

He doesn’t quite know the right sorts of questions to be asking, so he settles on: “What are you saying?”

“What do you think I’m saying?” The pitch of Dan’s voice is high and desperate. “We have no pulse, I couldn’t see us in the reflection of the bus’s windows, and your eyesight has improved to the extent that you were able to just shove your glasses in your back pocket — don’t do that, by the way, you’ll scratch the lenses.”

“…Are you saying we need to go to A&E?”

“No, Phil.” Dan pauses. It is sufficiently dramatic. “I’m saying that we’re vampires.”

Only one question stands out amongst the sudden chaos in Phil’s mind: How the hell did he manage to become even _more_ pale?


	3. Chapter 3 — Dan

“We should figure out what actual vampire powers we have,” Phil says. “Test all of the things they show in movies.”

Dan thinks for a moment. “Well, fangs would be the main trait, right? And neither one of us has them at the moment.”

He runs his tongue over his teeth to confirm that statement, but both he and Phil start giggling when they realize they’re mirroring each other. Cue some vampire-mirror pun that Dan can’t currently think of. He makes a note to Google it later; he can’t be witty when standing before the emo boy of his dreams. If he were to let himself dream of emo boys without waking in a cold sweat, that is.

“Okay, so no fangs right now,” Dan asserts once they’ve both calmed, trying to keep them on track with their pseudo-scientific vampiric analysis.

“What about when drinking blood?” Phil asks. “We’ve got to be able to do the fang-thingy unless fangs have become outdated and we all use crazy straws nowadays.”

And maybe Dan’s taking this too seriously, but he says, “I figure they’ve got to at least be there as vestigial organs.”

“Are teeth organs? I doubt it.”

Dan raises an eyebrow. “Do vampires function by the same definitions as human anatomy?”

“You’re asking up the wrong tree, mate,” Phil responds with a grin.

Dan’s eyes immediately go to Phil’s mouth. While he might pretend it’s in an effort to spot subtle signs of fanginess, he knows it’s actually just because he _really_ likes Phil’s smile.

He eventually finds the strength to look away from Phil’s shiny white teeth. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather we test out the fangs and the blood-drinking away from any humans.”

Even though he’s been talking to this guy for the past hour and recently broke the news to him that he’s now undead, it somehow feels embarrassing to admit his anti-murder sensibilities.

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea. My hand-eye coordination is… not great.”

Dan thinks through the possible other ways for them to get blood, but most of them involve research or blood banks or wild animals. Only one possibility just needs the two of them, but even the mere thought of it makes Dan’s stomach drop. He very quietly asks, “Do you think it’d work with us?”

“What do you mean?”

Dan so wishes he didn’t have to explain. He knows what he’s suggesting is so _intimate._ “Do you think it’d be possible for you to drink my blood and I yours?”

“Did you word it like that because it’d be cannibalism if we each drank our own blood?”

“Um, _no,”_ Dan says, not bothering to hide the disgust in his voice. It’s a welcome change from the vulnerability of his sincerity. “I meant, like, do you think we still have blood in our bodies?”

Phil squints at him, like he hadn’t quite thought about it. “Where else would the blood have gone?”

Dan shrugs. “Maybe the vamp who turned us drank it all or maybe we absorbed it since blood is now nutritious for us.”

“That second possibility happens in some Twilight book, I’m pretty sure,” Phil says, “so there’s some basis for that idea, actually.”

Dan hopes he doesn’t sound entirely stereotypical-lad when he asks, “You read the Twilight books?” He doesn’t mean it like _that,_ but he also kind of does. He knows that isn’t fair, but also _society._

Phil looks at him as though he’s surprised Dan would judge him for something as simple as reading a book he enjoys. Dan wants to scream that he wouldn’t, that he couldn’t! And doesn’t Phil see that Dan’s just deflecting his own insecurities because, if Phil can handle them without being ashamed, maybe that means that, one day, Dan can somehow overcome them too?

“…Yes?” Phil answers finally, and Dan adds an item onto his vague mental list of reasons why he likes Phil so much. Even in the face of Dan’s uncertain reaction, Phil didn’t hide this potentially vulnerability-inducing piece of himself. Meanwhile, Dan’s own brain is playing whack-a-mole with all of the things that don’t feel safe enough to even think about yet.

He takes a breath that he doesn’t need in order to steady himself. And perhaps he’s so used to the action from its constancy in his human life, when he needed things like oxygen and a functioning respiratory system, that he’s pavloved himself into thinking breathing is calming even when it’s physically unnecessary. He hasn’t actually tried holding his breath yet, but now’s not the time.

First, he has to make sure Phil knows the two of them are the same, or, at least, that they could be.

“Oh, sweet,” he says and then cringes at how obviously he’s overcompensating. “I read them too. Though I don’t remember much about the vampire lore besides the sparkles, to be honest.”

“Hm, we’ll need the sun to test that out,” Phil muses. “We can do it in the morning.”

Dan blanches. “Given that it’s also possible the sun will turn us to dust instead of disco balls, let’s not try that first thing.”

“Boo,” Phil says.

Dan shakes his head. “We’re vampires, not ghosts, remember?”

Phil laughs loudly, and the sound is bright, open, and suits him perfectly.

Dan wants to join in — he doesn’t know if he’s _ever_ sounded so entirely cheerful — but he forces himself to stay on task. “Anyways, I think we still might have unabsorbed blood in us since we were so recently turned. So, we can test the blood drinking on ourselves.”

“Kinky.”

Dan ignores him. “We definitely don’t have pulses though, so I’m not really sure how that’ll work. Because the blood would be super stagnant, just hanging out wherever it was when our hearts stopped, right?”

“That sounds smart, but I have no idea,” Phil says. “I mean, I watch a lot of horror movies, but post-mortem vein specifics aren’t really a box-office hit. Why would it matter if it’s stagnant?”

“Well, you’d have to use a whole lot of force to get the blood out of the puncture wound.”

“What I’m hearing is that if I suck your blood, I’ll be giving you a massive hickey.”

Dan snorts. “Probably. But my neck is kind of sensitive, so I’d rather you try somewhere else.”

Phil pouts. “But the neck is the classic vampire bite spot.”

“Yeah, but aren’t there a bunch of other large arteries? Veins? I don’t know, I haven’t taken a Bio class in years. Maybe you could try my thigh.”

Phil considers it. “Yeah,” he says in a faraway voice, “thighs are good.”

Dan kind of wants to call him out for almost definitely thinking about things in thigh-range other than Dan’s veins, but he doesn’t really have any room to talk — his brain has started to take interest in the exact same idea. And even if he has to convince himself it’s okay, he’s working on letting himself be comfortable with wanting it.

“So, what do you think?” Dan asks. “Are you feeling an urge to suck my blood?”

Phil makes a face. “I mean, I’ll suck your dick if you ask nicely, but no, I haven’t been thinking about your blood.”

Dan’s impressed that Phil brought it up himself. That takes guts. He wonders if they both still have guts.

“Maybe later, don’t want any fangs near my penis.”

“Wise statement for such a young man,” Phil opines.

“Oi, I’m eighteen. Fully legal. I don’t even have to go back home anymore.”

Phil’s brow furrows. “You’re just going to disappear? What about your family?”

“They won’t miss me,” Dan says with a shrug, hoping Phil won’t press further.

Phil frowns but doesn’t challenge him. Dan appreciates that. He only half wants to get into the toxicity of his family and the overall shitiness of his life — his past life — with a stranger. The other half recognizes this is the first time he’s ever felt like he has a completely fresh start. There are no rumors following him here, no bullies waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

He recognizes how sad it is that his life was so awful that he’s thrilled with the opportunity to have something different, even if by means of kidnapping and forced vampirism. Phil being here also helps. A lot.

He rarely connects so quickly with people, and most of the friends he did have back home were merely necessary protection from threats larger than any single one of them alone. They were people he _had_ to stick with, even as they made jokes at his expense and stood by silently while he was in pain.

Phil doesn’t seem like them at all. Dan was too out of it when he first woke to even bother trying to appear put together, but it doesn’t seem like Phil minds. In fact, he matched him weird for weird. Dan’s never had anybody who accepted him so wholly before. And, given his new vampiric status, it might be a while before he finds other people he can stand to be around without murdering, let alone bant with.

He doesn’t want to mess that up by dumping all of his baggage onto Phil. Phil doesn’t seem like someone who carries much baggage at all, and Dan would rather not weigh him down.

“Ok, well, we don’t need to decide anything tonight,” Phil says in a gentle voice. “You might want to reconsider in the morning.”

Dan doesn’t tell him that he knows he won’t. He changes the subject.

“Is it weird that I’m still super hungry? I wouldn’t have thought we’d still be able to eat.”

“Maybe we have two stomachs, like cows.”

Dan wrinkles up his nose. “That’s a pleasant image.”

“Like one for human food and one for blood food,” Phil continues.

“I don’t think that’s how cows work.”

Phil looks at him funny. “Yeah, but we aren’t cows?”

“But you said… never mind. Are the pancakes still an option or are you too weirded out by the whole vamp thing?”

“You _are_ surprisingly chill about your entire life being upended — or maybe just ended if we’re dead now. But there might be another issue with the pancakes: I actually live with my parents and they’re away on holiday — I’m not sure _I_ can be the one to invite you in.”

“Oh.” Dan doesn’t think he hides his disappointment well.

“But that was also, like, a forty-minute bus ride away. I’m sure we can find even better food somewhere around the city while we’re here.”

The mere suggestion of getting something to eat perks Dan up, and his scientific brain kicks back in. “Do you think we need to be invited everywhere we go or only for certain spaces?”

“Well, in Buffy, public accommodations were fair game, so I think we’ll be fine.”

“Might as well test that out, I suppose.” He’s already thinking of different experiments they can run.

“It will be an adventure!” Phil exclaims.

“An _adventure?”_ Dan knows he sounds quite skeptical. “We’re just going to grab some food.”

“Well, that’s what we’re going to do _first,_ but we have the whole night to do fun stuff! It can be sort of our last human night because, since we didn’t know in advance, we didn’t have a chance to say goodbye.”

“You want to throw a goodbye party for our humanity?”

“Exactly! So, make your list of fun things you want to try, Danny boy — we’ve got lots of human ground to cover, and we don’t know how fast our shiny new vampy feet can take us.”


	4. Chapter 4 — Phil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who's been really lovely and supportive with this fic :) As always, massive thanks to Jude & Louise for betaing 💙

“Ok, so we need a plan for when we see people,” Dan says as they run towards the center of town. “Don’t want to accidentally murder anyone.”

“Can murder be accidental? I thought that was manslaughter. Do you think we could be held accountable by law if we go crazy and drink someone’s blood?”

“I assume England doesn’t have vampire laws, so they’d probably just charge us with being murderous freaks who like to bite people.”

“Hm, that wouldn’t be ideal.”

“Exactly. So, plan?”

“Dan, chill. We didn’t turn into bloodthirsty creatures when we spoke to the bus driver, and, like you said, we probably still have blood in us. It’s obviously something we’ll have to deal with eventually, but for now we’re fine.”

“What if it takes time for the urge to strike? We might be okay now, but maybe the transformation isn’t over and the bloodthirst just hasn’t kicked in yet.”

“We’re basically sprinting, and we haven’t even broken a sweat. I don’t need my glasses at all, and neither one of us has a pulse. I think we’ve finished whatever transformation was needed to get this way.”

Dan frowns before looking down at the ground. It’s probably not a bad idea given the speed at which they’re running, but Phil hasn’t tripped yet and he’s never been afraid to push his luck.

“I still don’t like not having a plan,” Dan grumbles. Something about his expression reminds Phil of how young Dan is.

“Hey, look at me,” he says, trying as hard as he can to turn up the gentleness. It’s an odd kind of exertion given that the goal is to make it seem effortless. “We’ve probably got some kind of super strength. If one of us starts to get all weird, the other one will hold them back. We’ll keep an eye out for each other, okay?”

Dan finally meets his gaze. He whispers — an act Phil didn’t know was possible while running — “But what if we get distracted by the same person?”

Phil wants to say that he’s not worried about that because nobody could be more distracting for him than Dan is right now, but maybe that’s too intense to say to someone he just met. He decides to be teasingly flirty instead.

He makes a show of looking back and forth between them. “Hmm, you’re right. We definitely seem to have the same type.”

Dan squawks in a human-turned-vampire sort of way. Maybe it’s how bats squawk, if that’s a thing they can do. He’ll have to consult his animal facts. 

“That’s quite presumptuous of you,” Dan says with what Phil thinks is only mock offense.

So he raises a brow. He’s glad he’s still able to do that as a vampire. Not that there’s any reason why he shouldn’t still be able to, but still. It’s comforting. “Am I wrong?”

“No, you’re not wrong,” Dan says with a pout. It’s adorable. If Phil didn’t think Dan would get too flustered by it, he’d call him ‘baby.’ In like a cute, flirty way. Not like he’s making fun of him for pouting. But the night is long, and he hopes he’ll have another chance. It seems unlikely that Dan would be able to blush as a vampire, but there’s no harm in trying to tease one out.

“Come on,” he says, giving Dan a break, “let’s find an ice-cream shop. Nothing bad can happen when ice-cream is involved, and I want to see if vampires can get brain-freeze.”

_

Four scoops and no brain-freeze later, Phil feels so much more normal. More _human._ He’s just a guy on an ice-cream date with someone cute. No need to think about vampires or blood or what’s going to happen when the sun rises in a few hours. The night is theirs for the taking, and paradoxically, Phil’s never felt more alive.

He can’t put it off forever, he knows — even the previously vacuum-packed condensedness of ‘forever’ now seems to take up endless amounts of space. It’s hard to comprehend how his thoughts can still zing around like pinballs, avoiding all of these really heavy ideas, but there’s a well-worn circuit in his mind of trying to avoid change. And, with the software upgrades that come free with one purchase of vampirism, his mental ice has been newly zamboni-ed.

So he focuses on the little things, the unimportant things, the things he’s literally running into the ground with each super-speedy step he takes: his trainers.

There are all sorts of reasons to get new trainers, from the fact that his mum bought these for him years ago to the very visible wear and tear that means they’ve seen better days. But he’s a nostalgic sap, and the Sharpied drawings all over the canvas are exactly the kind of keepsake that tethers him; his feet are literally rooted in the past.

Nothing’s really changed on that front — if anything, he’s likely to become even more sentimental now — which might imply that he shouldn’t rush to change his footwear of choice. And Phil thinks that would be true if not for the existence of one item: light-up shoes.

But why stop there? Maybe he should cover himself in lights and film how cool and streaky it looks when he runs and leaves only light in his wake. That’d certainly do well on YouTube, if his camera would even be able to pick up on movement as fast as he is.

_Whoa. He might be faster than a literal camera. That’s so fucking ace._

Swearing is okay if it’s in his own mind, he thinks. And anyways, he doesn’t _really_ have a problem with it, no matter what he said to Dan earlier. It’s just… Dan looks so innocent with his dimples and his laugh and his delicately placed fringe, and the juxtaposition of those traits with the foul language makes Phil’s head go somewhere less than polite. He also happens to really like riling Dan up. Both reasons are probably best left unsaid, so he needs to be consistent enough with his own lack of swearing that Dan won’t call him on it. He’s glad Dan can’t read his mind.

_Unless he can? Shit. Oh, wait, fuck — argh! — whoops?_

“Dan,” he says, trying to not sound entirely too desperate, “what am I thinking about right now?”

“Um, I don’t know,” Dan says without so much as looking in his direction.

Phil frowns. Though Dan’s answer seems to imply that he can’t read Phil’s mind — thank _fuck_ — he still wants Dan to pay attention to him. But it’s not like he can just ask for that; he’d like to think he has _some_ game. Especially considering his Myspace profile is about to get a major level up if he leans into the whole vampire aesthetic.

_How long would it take for people to realize the jokes and the costumes he’d post were more than just that? It’s certainly not the only part of himself that people in his life would rather turn a blind eye to..._

“Ducks?”

Phil blinks — _does he even need to blink anymore?_ “What?”

“Are you thinking about ducks?”

Phil smiles as he shakes his head. Unfortunately, vampirism can’t prevent his fringe from falling into his face. “No, I’m not thinking about ducks.”

Dan looks at him now, like _really_ looks at him. Phil’s insides get squirmy, and he messes with his hair just to break eye contact.

“Do you want to tell me what you were thinking about?” Dan asks quietly.

There are lots of possible answers to that question given the ever-twisting windiness of Phil’s brain. He decides to keep it lighthearted — no need to drag Dan into _that_ mess.

“Was just thinking about how, if we can still show up in pictures, we’re going to look like the coolest emo kids. Especially if we can learn to force present fangs and sh— _stuff.”_

He thinks quickly to prevent Dan from focusing on that tiny linguistic mishap; his English degree didn’t prepare him for trying to keep his mouth in sync with his brain around cute boys. “Oh, I know! Let’s go find an Apple store and see if we can take pictures there!”

“I like the enthusiasm,” Dan says, “but it’s the middle of the night. They’re definitely closed.”

Phil won’t let himself be deterred that easily. “Given our super-speed and our general person-of-the-night-ness, I’m sure we’ll be able to get in without too much trouble.”

“Phil, a ‘person of the night’ is a prostitute, not a vampire.”

And, yeah, maybe that is chiming some bells somewhere in Phil’s mind, but he’s not too fussed. “Who says you can’t be both? Dare to dream, Danny boy.”

Dan rolls his eyes, but Phil can also see the smile he can’t quite seem to hold back. “Fine, you win. About the Apple store, that is. I’m not ready to pimp myself out to strangers quite yet.”

“Just the neighbors then?” Phil asks, making himself look intentionally wide-eyed and innocent.

“Yeah,” Dan says with a laugh, “there’s a friends and family discount.”

Phil kind of wants to ask if _he_ counts, but he also wants that answer to be a lot more serious than would fit the tone of this conversation. He’d also like to be something a little _more_ than friends, if Dan is willing or able to think of him that way. If he’s willing or able to think of _any_ guy that way. But that’s not for Phil to determine or parse out; all he can do is lend a helping hand whenever he’s got a spare. 

He wonders if vampire limbs regenerate; then he could make as many hands as he wants. But maybe disability representation in vampire media is just even shittier than in general culture. He never thought to ask about it in his post-production courses. Does that make him part of the problem?

The situation seems far too complicated for Phil to puzzle out within his own head, so he just joins in with Dan’s laughter and starts trying to direct them to the Apple store. 

He knows there’s one somewhere near the train station and begins to head in that direction. And, though he doesn’t do it consciously, he must slow down at some point — perhaps it’s a natural sort of reflex in places where there are more likely to be humans — because suddenly Dan is beside him and they’re just chatting and chilling and look like any other ‘are they a couple or are they just friends with no concept of personal space?’ duo that might happen to be walking around Manchester in the middle of the night.

When they get close enough to the station that he begins to re-orient towards the shopping centre, Dan’s tone suddenly changes from comfortably chatty — and, gosh, Phil really likes his voice — to meek.

“I was lying, by the way,” he says, “about the duck thing. It seemed like you were thinking something kind of intense, and I don’t know what it was, but I wanted to snap you out of it. So, ducks.”

Whatever’s currently in control of the emotional center in Phil’s chest feels very overwhelmingly full. _How in the world did he ever find someone like Dan?_

Phil reaches out and takes Dan’s hand, squeezing it once in gratitude. And then he thinks about the best way to go about breaking Manchester’s trespassing laws.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoyed this chapter? Come say on [tumblr](https://indistinct-echo.tumblr.com/post/643210565446172672/colorless-green-ideas-sleep-furiously-chapter-4)! <3


	5. Chapter 5 — Dan

“Wow,” Dan says, looking out over the dark city. “You can see everything from here.” He catches Phil’s smile from the corner of his eye.

“Probably would’ve been even better outside, you know, if you weren’t such a coward,” Phil teases.

Dan rolls his eyes and shoves his shoulder against Phil’s. Phil doesn’t pull away.

“Sorry that I wasn’t absolutely thrilled at the idea of our first climbing attempt being the tallest building in Manchester.”

“You were the one to suggest going to ‘that bee-tower place’ to begin with. Would’ve thought you at least had some fun plan for what to do once we got here. Climbing seems reasonable to me.”

“Well, _maybe,_ if there were bees here like the name suggested,” Dan says with mock indignation, “that would’ve been more exciting for the both of us. Anyways, _I’m_ perfectly content with having taken the lift.”

Phil raises an eyebrow. “So climbing is too scary, but _bees_ are just another fun activity for you?”

Dan shrugs. He doesn’t really have a good answer for that. It was never actually about the bees. He doesn’t know why he’s here in the tower any more than he does here in the universe.

Well, that’s not quite accurate; things were simply getting too intimate in the empty Apple store, and he needed to get out of there. Maybe that’s something he does a lot, just up and run as soon as any vulnerability is expected of him. That’s probably why he is more relieved than anything else in the face of this dramatic life — or death — change; he can stay here with Phil forever and doesn’t need to think about everything he’s leaving behind.

But if he’s going to diffuse any mildly uncomfortable conversation with Phil by switching the subject or, in this case, by literally running out the door, then he’s probably not making the most of this fresh start. He just doesn’t know how to _be_ any different than how he is. And that sucks because a lot of the time he doesn’t even like that person very much.

Can vampires go to therapy? Seems like eternity would be one hell of a time if he had to spend it with these kinds of thoughts. He makes a mental note to search the question on _Yahoo! Answers_ once he and Phil get to wherever they’re going to be spending their daytime.

_‘He and Phil’ — has he already started to think of them as so intertwined?_

The answer is a confounding and embarrassing ‘yes.’ It’s just, he’s never found someone he was so compatible with before. And quite frankly, prior to tonight, he wouldn’t have even thought such a thing to be possible.

Dan shakes his head; he isn’t usually this sappy. Maybe alcohol really does work on vampires. Though, admittedly, he and Phil did go through quite a lot more of it than he would’ve been able tolerate as a human.

It had seemed like a good experiment, seeing if alcohol could travel through the bloodstream when there wasn’t one. At least, that’s the reason Dan gave when he suggested they check out the _Cloud 23_ sky-bar upon seeing its logo next to the lift button for, unsurprisingly, the twenty-third floor. 

But there was an additional reason for wanting to drink, Dan knows, even if he’s trying not to think about it. That actually happens to be kind of the point; there are things he _needs_ to think about given this new beginning, given _Phil,_ but which his brain won’t allow him to consider. Alcohol, he had hoped, would lower his inhibitions, even just within his own mind, so that he could confront and consider the possibility of these things which he’s still too scared to name.

He can’t really tell if it’s working, if the buzz under his skin is from drink or from being pressed against a man from shoulder to wrist, but either way it feels like a terrifying sort of progress.

He had thought this was something he had time to work through, something that was best handled delicately and without force. Ostensibly, he has more time now than he ever did before — he _literally_ has forever — but every second that he’s in limbo feels wasted.

Maybe that tells him the answer, or at least something close enough to it.

That awareness is supposed to come with relief, Dan thinks, but in actuality he just feels mildly disgruntled. He doesn’t like that his mind can make all of these connections that are strong enough to leave him scared and confused and maybe even a little horny, but are too weak for him to feel confident about what any of it actually means for his self-understanding or his identity or his future.

_Stupid gremlin brain._

“Do you ever feel like your mind is an evil villain that’s been designed to torture you?”

Phil pulls away from him then, and it’s only one of many reasons why Dan regrets saying anything. Phil looks at him with these big blue eyes and with his mouth pressed into a frown, and Dan thinks he may have just given Phil his first insight into how fucked up Dan is.

And it’s not that Dan wants to lie or pretend to be something he’s not, but he would have liked, given this clean slate, for people to think he had his mental shit together for a little while. By ‘people,’ he really just means Phil, and that’s probably another sign of his fucked-up-ness. He cares more about someone he’s just met than he does any other person he can think of.

“No, but sometimes I get snakes in my brain,” Phil says. “Is that the same thing?”

Dan looks at him blankly, trying to decipher whether or not Phil is joking. He certainly _sounds_ serious, but he also doesn’t seem to have the smallest of imaginations. Dan decides to play it safe. “Seems like something you should consider getting checked out, mate.”

“Well, they’re usually hibernating, so it’s all fine, but they start snekking around whenever I get a migraine.”

 _Oh, a migraine. That makes a lot more sense._ “Are you describing the sensation of your headaches as being similar to snakes? Like these are pretend snakes?”

“Don’t say that,” Phil stage whispers, “you’ll hurt their feelings. They prefer to be called invisible.”

The point doesn’t seem worth arguing. “Alright, so what you’re saying is that there are snakes and they… _snek?”_

“Yeah, because they’re snakes. You can’t snek because you’re a… non-snake.”

 _Well that’s one way to describe him._ “In that case, can I non-snek?”

Phil frowns. “I’m not sure. We might need to look in a Webster’s to see if that’s possible.”

He looks so dejected, like his inability to do this fake thing that he clearly just made up is preventing him from achieving his dream of being a world-class non-snekker. _Oh fuck, it’s already caught on enough that he’s conjugating it._

“Maybe since we’re vampires we can ‘vemp’,” Dan offers, in an effort to restore some cheer.

Phil lights up. Mission accomplished. “VEMP means ‘vestibular evoked myogenic potential’.”

Dan doesn’t know what that means nor does he care. He puts a hand on Phil’s shoulder. “Phil, you evoke my ogenic potential.”

Phil cackles. “I’m glad, otherwise you’d probably fall over a lot more.”

“You’d catch me,” Dan says without really thinking about it.

“Yeah,” Phil responds, all soft and lovely and sure. “Especially since they did a VEMP test on me because of the headaches and the dizziness and the fainting and the, you know, snakes. But I’m fine. I’m just regular clumsy.”

His rambling shouldn’t be as cute as it is.

“Maybe it’s a good thing we were turned — doesn’t seem like your human body was doing too great.”

“Hey! I’m the peak of health.”

“The _picture_ of health,” Dan corrects.

“Sure, since that does still seem to work.”

“And it’s a good thing, too. Otherwise I’d never know if my hair looked stupid even though everyone else could see it.”

“Well, I could’ve told you, if that were ever the case.”

“Um, I think you might be a little biased?” Dan hears his voice get squeaky at the end as he realizes what he’s implying. And, yeah, maybe Phil’s said one or two things about the way Dan looks which fueled his assumption, but he’s about to make things a hell of a lot awkward if he’s wrong.

Phil just laughs. “Yeah, and always in your favor.”

Everything about him seems so warm and inviting, and Dan kind of wants to hug him. He ends up averting his eyes just to keep from throwing himself into Phil’s arms. It’s only once Phil has turned to look out the window over their city that Dan allows himself to subtly glance back at him.

There are things about Phil that he really, really likes. Things about the way he looks and the way he speaks and the way he laughs and the way he makes Dan feel. Dan likes being around him, and he wants more than anything for Phil to feel the same.

He knows that they’re both misfits to the outside world — two plastic pink flamingos in a garden full of gnomes — but at least together they can compete in the two-legged race of life. And perhaps that’s not the best analogy, given that flamingos actually do each have two legs of their own, although maybe that makes it even more poignant; it’s not that he and Phil can’t each stand on their own, brave this world that wasn’t made for them, at least when they existed in their mockable, bullyable, attackable human states, but rather that they can _choose_ to lean on each other instead of facing it all alone.

Dan wants Phil to choose him. And that must mean that, on some level, he’s already chosen Phil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi on [tumblr](https://indistinct-echo.tumblr.com/post/643850734053572608/colorless-green-ideas-sleep-furiously-chapter-5) <3


	6. Chapter 6 — Phil

“Wait up,” Dan calls from somewhere below him.

Phil cranes his neck over his shoulder and sees Dan struggling with his grip placement on the spokes.

“It’s like climbing a ladder,” he says, hoping that will snap Dan out of whatever overthinking he’s probably doing. “Just keep going up!”

“Easier said than done,” Dan grunts. “Vampirism might have granted me some much needed upper-body strength, but I’m still scared of heights.”

“Oooh, do you think we’ll get pecs and abs and stuff? Or are the muscles not getting the same exercise benefits because it’s all supernatural?”

Dan starts climbing again as he speaks. “Well, I doubt muscles have any way of ‘knowing’ if you’ve earned them legitimately or not — though I think climbing the Manchester Eye would certainly count — so it will probably just depend on how frozen in time vampire bodies are.”

Phil heaves a mock-annoyed sigh. “It’s another reason why it would have been helpful to know about our turning in advance. Not to attempt to stop it or anything, but I’d like to think I would have at least _tried_ to get into shape beforehand so I could be fit for eternity.”

Dan reaches up and then pulls himself onto a rung next to Phil. He glances at him out of the corner of his eye. “You’re already fit,” he says before continuing to climb.

Phil hangs there, momentarily stunned and disproportionately pleased, but then quickly scrambles after him.

“You too,” he blurts once his vocal cords remember how to cord vocally again.

_

Dan reaches a hand over the edge to Phil who grabs hold and tries to haul himself onto the top of the carriage.

“Careful,” Dan says as Phil props a leg up. “This thing rocks.”

“Glad you’re enjoying yourself,” Phil grumbles. He feels entirely non-graceful.

“I mean that it swings when you move. Don’t fight it. You can use the momentum.”

“Ugh, sounds like math,” he mutters, but he tries to keep the advice in mind.

With Dan’s help and a lot of grunting, Phil manages to belly flop onto the carriage and drag himself into a sitting position. The whole city now lays at his feet, but he only looks at Dan. He feels like that’s allowed; Dan is looking right back at him.

If he still had a human heart, he’s sure it would be beating really quickly. But even with the adrenaline and nerves still running sharp through his system, he feels a weird sense of assuredness which he attributes to the lack of heartbeat; if his heart is not beating quickly then he must not be scared, if he’s not sweating buckets then he is clearly not anxious.

He hadn’t realized his psyche could be so fooled by the absence of physiological markers, but he is thankful for it. It helps him have the courage to place his hand over Dan’s and then entangle their fingers when Dan flips his hand over to press his palm against Phil’s.

_Gosh, he really hopes Dan likes him._

He doesn’t want to make another move until Dan says something. Partially because he doesn’t want to chance ruining what’s quickly becoming a best-friendship, but mostly because it doesn’t seem like Dan’s fully figured himself out yet. And that’s fine — they have the rest of time to understand who they are to themselves and to each other — but in the meantime he doesn’t want to push Dan into something he might not want or be ready for.

“Um, can I try something?” Dan asks quietly.

Phil nods and watches with wide eyes as Dan bites his lip and balances on his knees so that he can shuffle closer. Phil reaches out and puts a hand on Dan’s hip to steady him.

The air is heavy and electric, and Phil feels it in his bones. Looking at Dan, Phil knows he’s exactly where he’s supposed to be. He hasn’t felt like that in, well, ever.

Dan moves slowly, even by a human’s definition of the word. But his eyes are bright, and his gaze sends a crackle of excitement up Phil’s spine. Dan isn’t nervous, at least not in any way Phil is able to sense.

“Gosh, you’re just—” Phil shakes his head; he doesn’t know where he intended the sentence to go, but he knows he means it.

Dan pauses and presses his lips together, and Phil wonders if he’s going to try and argue. Phil is willing to sit here all night and convince Dan of his own wonderfulness if he needs to, will do whatever it takes to get the well-earned compliments past the fringe and into that clever brain of his.

Instead, Dan asks, “Is it crazy that it’s like this already?”

Phil’s mind filters through discussions of fate and destiny, considers concepts like soulmates and life partners. He could explain the sensations in dozens of ways, but he doesn’t need to. They have forever to contemplate the how and the why, but he’s far past wondering ‘if.’ The connection they have just so clearly _is._

So his answer is simply: “Yes.”

And then he pulls Dan closer, and Dan kisses him.

It’s only a short kiss; Dan quickly pulls back with a sheepish smile.

“Yeah?” he asks.

Phil nods and laughs and squeezes Dan tighter. This time, they both lean in.

With one hand in Dan’s own and the other on his hip, it’s almost like they’re dancing. They’re sitting on a wheel on top of the world, and, though there’s no music, Phil’s lips move in a waltz against Dan’s.

But Phil’s too eager to keep position for long. He moves to pull Dan closer, and Dan obligingly climbs into his lap. Now he can feel every shift of Dan’s body in addition to every sigh and whimper breathed in the space within their kiss.

Dan twines his fingers into Phil’s hair, and Phil stifles a moan. He pulls back slightly and cups Dan’s face in his hands, pressing his thumbs into the two deep dimples on either side of Dan’s lovely lips.

“I’m touching your face,” Phil whispers.

Dan smiles, which only increases the dimples’ prominence. “I can see that,” he says.

“Are you okay with it? I can stop.” Phil’s not really asking about touching Dan with his _hands._

Dan bites his lip. Phil finds it incredibly attractive.

“Yeah,” he says, “I- I want it — you.” His eyes are wide, like he’s almost shocked with himself. “Guess I’m more than three percent _you know what.”_

Dan is already sitting on Phil’s crossed legs, so it’s easy to wrap him up into a hug.

“I want you too,” Phil says. “And, about the other thing” — he’s careful not to give a name to something which Dan didn’t — “that can wait. It’s okay if you don’t know.”

“You’re not worried I’m going to run away and go be with some girl if I’m not sure?”

Phil could to play it off, make a joke that neither one of them has other options given the vampirism, but he doesn’t want to even imply that Dan’s stuck in this quickly becoming _thing_ without any say in the matter. And he certainly doesn’t want to put some false narrative in Dan’s head that Phil is anything less than thrilled about _Dan_ being the person who he might just get to spend his eternity with.

“If you wanted to be with a girl or another guy, I’d be bummed, but only because I like you so much.” He moves to hold Dan’s hands. “I really, really like you, Dan.”

“I really, really like you too,” he whispers back.

Phil smiles. “Then there’s nothing to worry about.”

“Can I kiss you again?”

“Yes, please.”

_

 _“Weird,”_ Dan says, and his breath feels warm against Phil’s neck. “I’m going to try again.”

 _“Dan,”_ Phil groans, “you’re killing me here.”

“Far too late for that. And be quiet, I’m trying to science.”

Phil wants to say that he doesn’t care about science. He’d far rather have Dan’s mouth on his neck right now than figure out the exact distance from a blood source that causes their fangs to drop.

Dan giggles as he moves closer and then farther away from him. “I can feel them retract, it’s so weird.”

“Are you saying our teeth _turtle?”_

Dan’s face screws up in a funny sort of way. “I wouldn’t word it like that. It's maybe more like an exacto-knife.”

Phil rolls the term around in his head. “Exacto-fangs? I don’t know, it just doesn’t sound quite right.”

“Maybe it needs a higher vowel?”

“Like _‘Eh, vowel, want to buy some weed’?_ I don’t think letters work like that.”

Dan squints at him. “Didn’t you tell me you did an English degree at some point? You should know what that is. It’s, like, a thing.”

“Oxbow lake!” Phil exclaims.

“I’ll pinch your nips if you don’t start making sense.”

“What? It’s like the one thing I remember from school.”

“That’s _geography!”_ Dan screeches. Phil totally shouldn’t find it as endearing as he does.

“Yeah, I did it for GCSEs.”

“Well I just did it for A Levels, so I beat you.”

“Not my fault you’re a child. Practically a baby.”

It’s not the flirty tone he’d wanted to use when he finally called Dan that word, but at least the hiss Dan gives through his fangs in response is hilarious.

“Teach me how to do that,” he says. “I want to be able to hiss at you, too.”

“Do you think it’s intentional that kiss and hiss rhyme because they both have to do with your mouth?”

Phil thinks for a moment. Then it’s obvious. “Well if you quirk your lips into an ‘S’ shape then it’s like you have two ‘S’-es. So, then you get words like kiss and hiss and piss — no, wait...”

“They really should revoke your degree,” Dan mumbles before kissing him.

Phil almost immediately pulls back. “How about Retracti-teeth?”

“Oh, now you remember how words work,” Dan mocks.

“Your lips resuscitated my Englishness.”

“Yikes, never say that again.”

Phil arches an eyebrow. “Make me.”

It looks like Dan will follow through, moving back in until he’s nearly close enough for Phil to taste, but then he swerves at the last second and latches onto the side of Phil’s neck. The pain is sharp as fangs pierce the skin, but it’s quickly overtaken by the feeling of _pulling_ from within.

It’s good, it’s so good, and Phil can’t hold back a moan.

Dan’s lips are redder when he sits back, and it’s mesmerizing. That’s _his_ blood on Dan’s mouth and _his_ neck that Dan’s marked.

Dan grabs Phil’s chin and moves it up and away, presumably so he can admire his handiwork.

“I wonder when the self-healing kicks in,” he says. “We should see how long it takes.”

Phil’s brain immediately rejects that idea. _“Dan._ It is _so_ not the time. I need you back on my neck, like, _immediately.”_

“That good, huh?” Dan teases, pressing his thumb against the wound.

Phil groans.

Dan laughs at him, but Phil can’t bring himself to mind. “Oh, hush. I’ve got to make you symmetrical, anyways. But promise to do me next?”

The image sends a flash of arousal through him. He hadn’t realized he was so into biting, but, now that he’s thinking about it, now that he knows it’s possible, he can’t deny the appeal.

_“Definitely.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, as always, to my spectacular betas Jude and Louise <3  
> Come say hi on [tumblr](https://indistinct-echo.tumblr.com/post/644480033887518720/colorless-green-ideas-sleep-furiously-chapter-5) :)


	7. Chapter 7 — Dan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap :) Thank you to everyone who came on this journey with me — artists, betas, and readers, alike — I so appreciate all of your help and support. Writing and posting this fic has been quite a process, and I'm excited now to bring it to its proper close. I hope you've enjoyed these baby vamps as much as I have 💙

“I can’t believe I’m still not able to get my fangs to fangify,” Phil whines, throwing an arm over his eyes. “You don’t even need to be near me to get it to work for you, anymore.”

Dan mentally confirms the statement by focusing on his mouth and feeling his fangs move with his intent. He wishes he knew how better to explain it, but in lieu of that he can at least stroke a comforting hand down Phil’s side. Or, more accurately, keep in contact with Phil in as many ways as possible while simultaneously pretending that it’s for Phil’s benefit.

Phil sighs. “I just don’t know how to wiggle my ears,” he says, and Dan can see the pout of his lips even from here.

“It’s not actually wiggling your ears,” Dan reminds him. “It’s more of the idea of figuring out how to engage muscles that you didn’t previously know existed.”

“Do you think those muscles exist in humans and we — they — just haven’t figured out how to fang yet?”

Dan shrugs even though he knows Phil can’t see the movement. “Probably not. More likely the muscles formed when we turned, the same way we’ve gotten better eyes and stuff.”

“There should be a handbook.”

Dan hums in response.

The two of them are then silent for a moment, and, in that time, Dan listens to the sounds of cars on distant roads and notices the noises of crickets and owls that he never thought he’d be able to hear from within a city. That would probably still be true if he were human.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t give it back to you,” Phil says, uncovering his eyes and fumbling into a seated position.

Dan refocuses. “By give it back do you mean suck my blood?”

“Yeah. I really wanted to, just so you know.”

“Like in a crazy vampire hunting way or a sexy way?”

“Sexy way, obviously. You wouldn’t be very difficult to hunt, no offense.”

“At least _I_ have my fangs.” _Oh shit, he shouldn’t say that._ “Sorry.” He tries to change the subject. “What did it feel like, having your blood sucked?”

That gets Phil to smile. “It’s so good. I think you’ll like it.”

“Even if my neck’s really sensitive?”

“Especially then.”

Dan tries to keep his expression even when he asks, “Does it hurt?”

“Not really, I think I mostly got too distracted by all of the good stuff to notice it.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

Dan stays silent as Phil searches his face.

“Maybe you notice it more if for you it’s part of the good stuff? Or we can try different pressures or something. You were really gentle, but I don’t have to be.”

_Oh god. This can’t be happening._

Dan hides his face in his hands.

“Hey,” Phil says softly, his hand coming to rest on Dan’s knee. “It doesn’t have to be a thing.”

Dan pulls his hands away so he can glare at him. “How can it not be a thing, Phil? You’re pretty much suggesting I have a pain kink!”

Phil doesn’t flinch at Dan’s tone. Sharp words had always been Dan’s best weapon when it came to getting people to leave him alone, but Phil doesn’t even seem bothered. His voice is as kind and steady as before. “It’s okay if you do, but that wasn’t what I was suggesting. I was trying to say we can figure out what we each like best together, okay?”

Dan takes a deep breath but chokes on it halfway through. Has he started to forget how to breathe already, or is he just anxious? Both, maybe.

Phil doesn’t rush him or smother him with questions asking if he’s okay, and he’s thankful for that. He just keeps his hand on Dan’s knee like he’s a paperweight holding Dan to the top of the wheel.

Once he’s steadied himself, he tries to choose his words carefully. “I’d like that, getting to try everything with you. And, um, yeah, maybe I would like to see how the biting feels once we get the whole fangs situation sorted.”

“We can do that,” Phil says. “While we’re being vulnerable, can I say something?” 

Dan nods.

“I know you have some complicated home stuff” — Dan can’t help the face he makes at that — “but I’m really scared about losing my family with all of this. I just don’t know what to do, or what to tell them.”

Dan wonders if it’s self-centered to worry that Phil’s talking about him and not the more looming vampirism, but he needs to be sure.

“By ‘all of this,’ are you referring to this stuff with me?” He hates how his voice breaks at the end. That seems like the kind of flaw immortality would fix, but he supposes that even forever can’t stop his emotions from leaking through.

“Maybe a little?”

Dan’s non-beating heart drops.

“It’s not, like, a _you_ issue!” Phil says quickly, “And I am out to my family. It’s just… I’ve always kind of felt that they’re hoping I’ll ‘change my mind’ or something, and you being there, well, it will probably ruin that for them. But that’s a good thing, see? Because then they’ll have to face the truth. And when they see how great you are and how happy I am” — Phil grabs his hand — “I really am sure they’ll be happy for me too.”

Dan doesn’t know how Phil can have so much hope that his family will come around. How can he give people who hurt him more chances to kick him down? So he asks him.

Phil takes a minute to answer, and Dan can almost see the shiny new cogs turning in his brain.

“I really do think everyone’s hearts are in the right places. But I’m also confident they don’t understand what it’s like. So, they worry a lot and secretly hope I end up having the same kind of future that they do. Not because they’re mean-spirited, but because _they’re_ happy enough and it’s all they know to be able to want for me.”

“But I was never going to have that future,” Phil continues, “and maybe it’s just because sexuality is confusing that it’s taking them a while to wrap their heads around it. Vampirism, at least, will hopefully be concrete enough to comprehend, even if it’s more supernatural than being gay.”

It’s probably the wrong thing to say, but Dan quips, “Well, you know what they say about fairies.”

Phil graces him with a small smile which Dan takes as his cue to shut back up.

“Is it bad that I’m almost thankful for the vampirism because it clearly demonstrates that I’m never going to be like them again, if I ever even was?”

“It’s not bad,” Dan says slowly, “and I think it makes a lot of sense. If you already feel like the black sheep, I understand why you’d want to look like one, too.”

“I think I’m probably more of a lion than a sheep.”

“You can be anything you want to be, Phil.”

They’re quiet for a moment.

“Dan?”

He makes a noise of acknowledgment.

“It feels like we’re the only two in the world.”

“Vampires or gay people?”

It’s less scary to say it like that, like it’s just one potential trait in a list of many, rather than some core identity of which he needs to be certain.

“Both.”

_

“Please don’t jump,” Dan begs.

“Why? We can’t get hurt.”

“I know it’s probably not possible, but I’d rather not risk it.”

“So I’ll jump first, and you can see that it’s safe.”

Dan grabs harshly onto Phil’s arm. “Who do you think I’m scared of getting hurt?” he demands.

Phil’s eyes widen. “Oh.”

Dan is more than willing to use the momentary softening in Phil’s resolve to his advantage. “Yeah, so please, for me?” He bats his eyelashes. “Let’s climb down together.”

“But we don’t have much time…”

“Would it make you feel like we’re going faster if I said we could race?”

“Oh, definitely. You’re on!”

Phil scrambles to climb over the edge, and Dan quickly follows.

“First one to the bottom without _any_ jumping wins!”

And with that, they’re off. They don’t speak until they’ve reached the bottom with Phil only narrowly edging him out. Dan blames it on the fact that Phil’s maybe an inch or so taller than him and he has _legs._

It’s weird not panting at the end of a race. Or, Dan thinks it would be weird if he were used to races that required more physical exertion than handling a Mario Kart controller. But, as it is, he feels perfectly capable of climbing the Eye again, not that he intends to.

A bus pulls up in front of them. A bus with a glitchy route indicator and a paint job that looks all too familiar.

When the doors open, they are faced with the same bus driver from earlier in the night.

“You kids coming aboard this time? It’s quite late — you best be going wherever you’re headed.”

Dan looks at Phil, and Phil leans into the bus for a moment.

He then turns towards Dan and whispers, “No passengers. Also, I don’t feel the weird pull I did last time which now that I think about it was maybe bloodlust? Gross.”

The bus driver coughs into her fist. Dan really hopes she didn’t overhear any of that.

At Dan’s nod of approval, Phil gets aboard, quickly pulls out his wallet, and pays for the both of them.

“Hey!” he protests.

Phil just turns back to him with a sparkle in his eye and silently mouths, _“Vampire speed.”_

Dan rolls his eyes and climbs onto the bus behind him.

He walks past the driver to join Phil in choosing which seats to claim. He never had this kind of choice while taking public transportation in London.

But they’re still certainly in earshot, especially with their new vampire senses, to hear the driver mutter, _“Can’t believe I created fucking vegetarians.”_

His and Phil’s heads snap up, and they speak in unison:

“Language.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like/Reblog [here](https://indistinct-echo.tumblr.com/post/645113784094130176/colorless-green-ideas-sleep-furiously) :)


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